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'Wandering aimlessly at first in the wood, Frodo found that his feet were leading him towards the slopes of the hill. He came to a path, the dwindling ruins of a road long ago. In steep places stairs of stone had been hewn, but now they were cracked and worn, and split by the roots of trees. For some while he climbed, not caring which way he went, until he came to a grassy place. Rowan-trees grew about it, and in the midst was a wide flat stone. The little upland lawn was open upon the East and was filled now with the early sunlight. Frodo halted and looked out over the River, far below him, to Tol Brandir and the birds wheeling in the great gulf of air between him and the untrodden isle. The voice of Rauros was a mighty roaring mingled with a deep throbbing boom.
He sat down upon the stone and cupped his chin in his hands, staring eastwards but seeing little with his eyes. All that had happened since Bilbo left the Shire was passing through his mind, and he recalled and pondered everything that he could remember of Gandalf's words. Time went on, and still he was no nearer to a choice.
Suddenly he awoke from his thoughts; a strange feeling came to him that something was behind him, that unfreindly eyes were upon him.'

JRR Tolkien: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring: Book II, Chapter 10: The Breaking of the Fellowship